When the guard left, I asked, “Who’s he bringing?”
“Our creative solution, of course.” Mr. White glanced to the front of the room, where men were tortured every day. “Is the recording equipment working?”
“Yes,” I said warily.
“Then please turn on the cameras.”
I tried to meet The Director’s eyes, but he was staring at his hands. I pushed myself to my feet, the lumps of blood on my shirt beginning to clot. I went to turn on the four cameras, all aimed at the staging area.
It’s a trick, I kept telling myself. The cruelest punishment imaginable for daring to hurt one of their own. But how could that be, since Eliot had come to get me before he knew about Bo?
I turned around at the sound of struggle. Two guards dragged naked Nathan down the stairs. His skin was slick with sweat, his face bruised and bleeding.
Watching him made the pieces fall into place. I was going to torture him on camera—to fully transform into one of them. And if I ever spoke of these people or this place, they would have proof of my participation in their horrible acts.
Mr. White signaled me to come closer. I returned to face the three men who held my life in their hands.
“Do you understand what is required of you?” Mr. White asked.
Neither The Director nor Eliot met my eyes.
“I understand,” I said. “I can do it.”
Mr. White nodded. “Good. I knew you were special, and now the world will once more get to enjoy your presence. We shall discuss the technical terms of your freedom after we’re done with this unpleasant affair.”
I managed a stiff nod, beginning to believe that this might truly be happening.
“Get him ready,” Mr. White told the guards.
They dragged Nathan to the front of the room and chained him to the ceiling, making him stand on his tiptoes. His dark copper hair had grown long enough to reach his shoulders, all tangled and filthy.
I took a breath to steady my heart, but I’d lost control of its drumming. I asked Mr. White, “Should I start?”
“No time like the present, but you’ll first need this, of course.” He reached inside his blazer and pulled out a gun. I took a step back, almost losing my footing. He chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were surprised.”
“What… what do you want me to do with that?”
He cocked his head, frowning. “Oh, my. We don’t seem to be on the same page here. Let me be even clearer. You are to shoot Nathan until he turns into a corpse. Better?”
My eyes darted from The Director to Eliot, their stoic expression indicating they had known about this.
“I… I can’t kill him!” My panic surged, tightening my throat. “I’ll hurt him, but—”
“There’s no ‘but,’ Jonah.” Mr. White raised the gun for me to take. “One way out, and one way only.”
And what if I shoot you instead?By the smile on Mr. White’s face, he was reading my thoughts and finding them amusing.
Shooting him wouldn’t get me out of here; shooting Nathan would.
“Please don’t make—”
“I’m losing my patience, Jonah, and I find your ungratefulness insulting. If we’re done here—”
“No!” Nothing scared me more than losing this chance of freedom. I forced my shaky hand to close around the gun. It felt heavier than I’d expected.
“How do I… how do I use it?”
“The safety’s off,” Mr. White said. “You just point and shoot.”
